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If it's a thriller there has to be a killer. If there's a killer he has to be psycho. If he's a psycho his mental disorders shows off only towards the end (while he behaves quite normal in the rest of the film). This is the patented, oft-repeated formula being used in every other suspense flick.

A mayor (Jackie Shroff), an inspector (Sunil Shetty) and a painter (Dino) are in love with an architect (Karishma) at varying degrees. And then there's a serial killer on the move. But you have to choose the killer from the three men itself, as there are no other characters in the movie (So your search becomes much easier). And check the killer's modus operandi. He first whips the victim, then injects a sedative and finally stabs her. Also he leaves the needle and dagger next to her dead body as his trademark. Moreover, the killer has an underground den where he stuff's his prey's body in frozen pods. Only if these cotton-wool water bodies in neon lit chambers weren't so bizarre, the audience would have given a thought about getting scared. And it's not the least difficult to guess the killer's identity.

A term called Editing is completely absent in this film, for every scene has been blown out of proportion, while some being plainly unnecessary. And the director's tendency to go overboard with the action scenes in the finale just leaves you with thoughts that when shall the Exit doors open. The noisy and screechy background score makes you realize the importance of silence.